Prisoners of the Past
by Ridley C. James
Summary: In the short time that Dean, Sam and Caleb have been The Triad they have faced trials that have threatened to destroy them and The Brotherhood; but nothing compares to the latest test that will bring the three of them and Joshua face to face with the very past that laid the foundation for the men they were destined to become, threatening a future their Triad may never realize.
1. Chapter 1

Prisoners of the Past

By: Ridley & Tidia

Beta: Tidia

A/N: We have wanted to do this story for a while, and hope you enjoy it. On The Brotherhood timeline this story falls directly after The Dragon Trilogy. For new readers, all our stories can be found on our home page: The Hunters Tomb. They are in chronological order there and include lots of photos, videos and fan art. This is a stand alone story, but I believe it would be helpful to have read 'To The Victor Go The Spoils' as well as 'What is to Come'.

RCJ & TI

"_**The past cannot be changed, forgotten, edited or erased; it can only be accepted."**_

Dean Winchester, Guardian of The Brotherhood was having the best dream. Atypical for him, but a damn nice change from his usual nightmares. Interesting enough, there were no half naked Victoria Secret models, no Asian triplets with kinky fetishes. Not even a glimpse of a breast peeking from a plunging tank or flash of skin from low slung blue jeans with rips in all the right places. His brother Sammy might say this was a sign Dean was finally growing up, but Dean credited it to a surprising contentment he'd found in the last six months a welcomed rhythm he'd never known. In the dream Dean was home at the farm in Kentucky. Sunlight from the windows warmed his face. The sheets were cool, sliding over his bare skin like water. A soft pliant presence was curled beside him. Breath tickled his ear, an arm resting over his chest. Dark hair spilled across his pillow. Dean could smell the last wild roses of summer and the fallen leaves that littered the wooded paths to the pond. Wanting nothing more than to keep his eyes closed to rest here. Caleb Reaves, Dean's best friend and Knight of The Brotherhood had other ideas.

Caleb's insistent voice shattered the spell. Dean had no doubt it was his best friend who roughly shook him now, demanding he wake from the dream's refuge.

"Damn it, Damien." Dean grumbled, trying to roll over to find his way back to the farm to bury himself in the tangle of sheets, arms and legs. He wanted nothing more than to hold onto the promise of what that soft pliant body next to him might do to his if he woke her just the right way and they shooed the dogs out of the bed. Dean knew for a fact it would be mind blowing. There would be coffee afterward, pancakes, too. "Go the hell away."

"Dean!" Caleb was persistent, going so far as to slap Dean's cheek.

The rough sting was enough to dash Dean's hopes for his dream having a happy ending, literally or figuratively. Like flipping a switch thoughts of pleasure turned to another instinctual desire. Dean was going to pummel the shit out of his Knight. He came to fighting mad.

"What the hell, man?"

"That's it." Caleb was staring down at Dean, an incredulous half smile on his face. "You were starting to scare me, Kid."

"Then prepare yourself to be terrified, Dick Head." Dean growled. He pushed himself to an elbow finding it more difficult than usual. He cursed his uncooperative body, dreading what forty might look like if this was his state at nearly 31. "When I get up from here…"

"I advise you take it slow on the getting up part," Caleb interrupted Dean's tirade. He kept his hand on Dean's shoulder, but rocked back on his heels out of Dean's personal space. "That first step is a bitch."

Dean's attempt to make good on his threat brought a swift punch of reality, along with a gut twisting bout of nausea. "Holy shit…"

"Told you so," Caleb chided.

Dean grasped his head as everything started to spin. He forgot about the dream, his thoughts kicking into overdrive to address a much more pressing issue at hand. "What the hell happened?"

"I was hoping you might be able to shed some light on that for me."

Dean glared at his best friend through bleary eyes. He had no clue what landed him in the current state of misery, but was willing to hazard a guess considering his accomplice. "Did we cross the border again? Get shit-faced drunk?"

"We were on a hunt," Caleb frowned. "In _Ohio_."

"Right." Dean pinched the bridge of his nose, a few fragmented pieces of his memory floating into place. Alcohol would not have been in the picture until the gig was finished, which had not been the case as far as he could recall. He and Caleb knew how to let loose, but John Winchester's School of Hard Knocks had made sure they understood the hard and fast rule of business before pleasure. "The subterranean troll in the abandoned Subway."

Caleb sighed. "Last thing I remember we were in the tunnels…"

"Did you touch something you shouldn't have?"Dean managed to twist his grimace into what he hoped was a menacing glower. Caleb was notorious for touching things he shouldn't.

"What?" Caleb looked appropriately insulted. "I didn't touch a damn thing."

"Sure you didn't, Damien." Dean huffed. "Just like that time in Wisconsin."

"One time I trigger a false panel in the floor and…"

"_I_ was standing on that false panel, asshole and that wasn't the first time your issue with touching things you shouldn't has gotten us into hot water." Whether it was a woman with a particular shade of red hair and a biker boyfriend the size of Dwayne Johnson, or an interesting statue that piqued his artistic curiosity, Caleb Reaves couldn't help himself. He could be worse than a toddler.

"I swear I didn't touch anything, Deuce. We were laying the trap for the troll. Remember?"

"Whatever." Dean let it drop, knowing he was being persnickety because of his pounding head and a growing sense of helplessness. He looked past his friend to the landscape surrounding them. There was a full rushing stream behind Caleb. Dean could see a small spread of towering pines across the way. "This isn't Ohio."

"No shit." Caleb snorted. "Last time I checked Cincinnati didn't have a fucking mountain range or buffalo."

"Buffalo?" Dean tried to make out the slow moving brown masses Caleb was pointing to in the distance. "What the..."

"That or some really big furry cows."

"Are those the Rocky Mountains?" Dean forced his gaze to the massive snow capped giants in the distance. He shivered, unsure if it was from the cold that his body was quickly becoming aware of, or the realization that they were possibly half way across the country from the last place he remembered being. At least they were dressed for December weather in Ohio.

"Maybe." Caleb nodded to the open range before them. "Possibly the Tetons. This looks a whole hell of a lot like Wyoming."

"Wyoming! How the hell did we get to Wyoming?" Dean made his way to sitting, adrenaline helping to push away the last dregs of his fogginess. He pulled his jacket tighter around him, noting that the sun was sinking lower in the endless blue sky. It reflected off the spotty patches of melting snow. Pretty soon it would start a slow descent behind the mountains taking what little heat he could feel with it. In the back of his mind Dean realized they needed to find some kind of shelter, but the sheer awe of waking up on the open range was taking first billing.

"Again, I have no idea." Caleb ran a hand through his hair.

"What _do_ you know?" Dean growled, knowing he was snapping at the older hunter for no reason other than his own frustration. He made it to his feet, refusing the helping hand Caleb attempted.

Caleb shook his head at Dean's stubbornness, but took a step back and let Dean wobble on his own. "I know I only came to about ten minutes before you, not too far away. I was freezing, and my head felt like I'd used it for a battering ram."

"Any signs of how we got here?"

Caleb sighed, gestured to the vastness around them. "I couldn't exactly do recon with you still out of it, but from what little I can see, it's like we fell out of the fucking sky. There aren't even any roads."

"Falling out of the sky could explain the massive headache." Dean massaged his temples, thankful he and Caleb hadn't taken time for dinner before the hunt. Dean was sure it would have made an unwelcome reappearance by now.

"So it could be spellwork."

"Magic?" Dean's brow furrowed. That didn't add up. "Trolls aren't equipped for that. They can barely get out of the rain."

"Harry Potter would have a hard time pulling off a transportation spell of this spectrum, Deuce, but here we are. The troll is off the suspect list." Caleb zipped his own jacket, stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Whoever did deliver us here didn't have the consideration to bring our gear, which means no cell phones or backup weapons."

Dean patted his side, letting out a held breath when he felt the telltale bulge of his Glock in its holster, sensed without checking that his blade was in his boot sheath. "At least we have our guns."

"But only minimum ammunition." Caleb's face hardened. "Depending on the enemy, our blades may be useless. We're practically defenseless."

Dean understood The Knight had already calculated a run of worst case scenarios, his mind creating possible counter moves. Caleb took the Boy Scout motto to extreme levels, especially since officially becoming The Triad. "Dude, we're hardly babes in the woods. We're The Guardian and Knight of The Brotherhood. We've killed things of nightmares since we were kids."

"But yet The Guardian and The Knight of The Brotherhood managed to get themselves kidnapped and stranded in the middle of nowhere during a junior league hunt for a bumbling troll. Forgive me if I'm a little concerned about our current safety. Something strange is going on here, man. I can feel it."

"Strange is our life." Dean rolled his eyes, but admitted his best friend had a point. "So maybe we should start with the facts. It's cold. We're losing daylight. It's going to get a whole hell of a lot colder when it gets dark. Let's get the hell out of here."

"Did you forget the fact we have no fucking gear? No compass. No maps."

"Just call me Daniel Boone." Dean smirked. "Did you forget I happen to be a damn good tracker, a trailblazer in my own right? This isn't our first rodeo, Damien. Dad used to drop us off in the middle of nowhere with nothing but our packs and some beef jerky just for giggles. The Lewis and Clark Years. Remember?" John Winchester had claimed it was great training for the boys. It was important that hunters be self reliant in all situations, but Dean had always wondered if his dad hadn't taken a little bit of perverse pleasure dumping his cocky teenage son and know it all protégé into challenging situations during their summer breaks and other various holidays. Then there was the fact the 'training' often coincided with a time when either Dean or Caleb, or often both of them, had done something that displeased the former Knight. Dean's father could take multi-tasking to an extraordinary level when it came to punishment.

"Johnny never dropped us anywhere like this, Deuce." Caleb didn't crack a smile like Dean hoped he might, or even curse his mentor in a good natured way that had developed. Instead his face grew grimmer, and Dean caught the flash of sincere worry in his Caleb's gold eyes. "Something is off here. Something I can't put my finger on. It's like this place is empty somehow."

"Empty?" Dean forced a smile. "It has buffalo."

Caleb grimaced. "Not that kind of empty."

"What do you mean?" Maybe it was the other emotion Dean picked up on from his friend, the fear that was foreign to Caleb's makeup, but he didn't offer another platitude. He took a step closer to Caleb. "Are you picking up something with your abilities?"

Caleb shook his head. "Maybe. They're still dulled from the massive headache. This place just doesn't seem right."

Caleb was a strong psychic and Dean trusted his instincts. If he said something was wrong then more than likely it was. "Still, staying put has no advantage. We're going to freeze if we don't make camp and get some shelter. We'll figure the other stuff out as we go."

For some reason Dean's proclamation garnered the previous response he'd hoped for, and Caleb gave a half grin. He gestured wide. "After you, Lewis."

"I prefer to be Clark." Dean smirked, intent on joking about how Clark was rumored to be the one who had a romantic fling with Sacajawea. Dean would point out how he got the girl all the time and how Caleb was the wing man. It would prove a distraction typical of them; but Caleb's sudden grimace of pain stopped the intended mirth. Dean's gut clenched as his best friend gripped his head and took a sharp intake of breath.

It hadn't been so long ago that Caleb was sick, that he was in mortal danger from his abilities. Even though Dean knew with certainty his friend was cured, his health restored to a hundred percent in the short months since then, he still found himself caught in the familiar grips of fear and dread.

"Damien?" He reached out to steady The Knight, knowing Caleb could easily call a 'pot and kettle' moment. Dean was hovering, something he'd worked hard not to do after the all too real scare. "Are you okay?"

"Sam."

The answer was not one Dean expected. It sure as hell didn't help ease his worry. "What about Sam?"

"He's here." Caleb searched the tree line closest to them. "Sammy's here. Joshua, too."

"Joshua was in Louisville when we left New Haven. Sammy is in New York." Dean's brother, Sam was on the tail end of his second fall semester of college at NYU, busy with upcoming finals. He'd come home to the farm for Thanksgiving, but Dean had gone to the city to stay a few days just before he and Caleb had left for Ohio. Sam had even conned him into a trip to The Natural History Museum where he had a pass to preview a new exhibit that their friend and fellow hunter Elijah Matthews had helped put together. Sam had treated pie at Sweet Melissa's afterwards. It was a great day, even with Sam's geeky exuberance over the ancient texts on display, maybe more so because of it. Dean would be lying if he said he didn't miss his little brother living in Kentucky, but he'd grown to like the idea that Sam was finally getting his slice of normal. It meant he was relatively safe, at least as safe as their lives ever allowed. Dean wanted to believe Caleb's abilities were screwing with him, but had a feeling luck was not going to hold.

"And we were just in Ohio." Caleb gripped his arm. "Come on."

Dean ran after Caleb over the rough terrain, slipping on ice covered rocks and snowy ground. They broke into the stand of forest, followed a rutted trail that looked a lot like the one worn into the land at the farm by Jim's hay wagon. They'd been going long enough for Dean to convince himself that Caleb had been mistaken when they made it through the trees into a clearing that revealed rolling land that seemed to stretch to the base of the mountains like buckled carpet.

"There," Caleb pointed.

Dean made out the outlines of a big house and barns in the distance, but that wasn't what Caleb was calling his attention to. Sam Winchester and Joshua Sawyer had just emerged from a parallel stand of pines.

"What did you two do?" Sam demanded as soon as they were close enough for conversation. Dean wasn't able to get a word in edgewise before Joshua jumped on the accusation band wagon.

"Tell me this is some kind of horrible error and you two idiots have not been involved in some sort of crafting debacle."

Dean crossed his arms over his chest studying his brother and their Triad's Advisor. He felt a momentary swell of stubbornness that overshadowed his relief at finding them both whole and seemingly unharmed. "Only if you tell me what the hell you two are wearing. What's up with the Tux, Sammy? And Josh? Are those pajamas?"

Josh's mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. Speechless was a rare state for the public relations guru and despite the situation Dean flashed Caleb a grin, his best friend rolling his eyes in return. Sawyer's face reddened. He picked at the long sleeved black shirt with his initials embroidered on the pocket.

"They're designer of the finest silk. And they were a present from my grandmother." He pointed a finger at Caleb. "I know for a fact she bought you a pair as well."

Caleb snorted. "Yet, you don't see me prancing around in them out in public."

Sam came to Joshua's rescue. "I was at a benefit for The Natural History Museum with Mac and Eli. Joshua was at home in bed."

"Maxim has just begun to sleep through the night." Joshua jumped in, recovering his voice and his typical haughtiness. He stepped shoulder to shoulder with Sam. Dean noted he was wearing only socks and a sleep mask hung around his neck. He regretted not having his cell phone for the camera alone. "I was looking forward to the first real night's rest I've known in three months since bringing the baby home. I did not plan to spend my evening in the wilds of Wyoming, which should be obvious by my dress, or better yet, my state of undress. The situation once more begs the question what kind of spell did you two lack the obvious competence to cast, yet still chose to use? Why are we here?"

"You think we're in Wyoming, too?"

"You think spell work did this?"

Caleb and Dean asked the questions simultaneously. Sam and Joshua exchanged looks before Sam answered Dean's question first.

"I'm convinced those are the Tetons," Sam pointed to white capped mountains. "It looks like the Jackson Hole area where we came to with Ethan, Eli and Gideon."

Dean grimaced at the mention of the horrible hunt that had been spurned by Ian Hastings betrayal of The Brotherhood. Gideon Lane had given his life on that hunt. Joshua's reply to Caleb's question kept Dean from dwelling too long in the past.

"The state in which we found ourselves upon waking suggests a shift in space and perhaps time, or that we were drugged and kidnapped. Considering I was home and Sam was states away at a benefit, I ruled out the latter possibility. It would take incredible crafting skill to 'rip' someone from one place and bring them to another physical location, but I imagine Triad magic could accomplish such a task. We assumed you two were somehow to blame."

"Thanks for that." Dean found it hard to be pissed at his Advisor considering the way Joshua's teeth were chattering. "I hate to blow a huge hole in your theory but we found ourselves in the same situation. One minute we were in abandoned subway tunnels in Ohio laying a trap for a troll, the next we're here out cold, in the middle of nowhere."

"You two really didn't cause this?" Sam still looked doubtful.

"No, damn it." Dean's irritation was growing with the third degree from his lawyer in training brother. "Do I need to swear an oath, Sammy?"

"Then we have to consider who or what would have motive to do such a thing, and what they hoped to gain by bringing us here."

"Angels would have the capability," Sam said.

"But no motive." Joshua shook his head. "Heaven is righted, greatly in part to your Triad's services."

"Sending us on an unplanned vacation for a thanks definitely wouldn't be there style." Dean hadn't heard from Castiel since Damien relinquished David's Sword. He imagined the angel was busy with whatever it was angels did on a daily basis. "There's Sida."

"Sida?" Caleb huffed. "What the hell does she have to do with this?"

Dean met his Knight's gaze. "That is one woman you do not want to scorn, Man, and you and I both know scorning is your forte when it comes to the fairer sex. Have you crossed some line and forgot to mention it?"

"I haven't scorned Sida, and even if I did she wouldn't try something like this. Revenge would be swift and much more personal, like a crafted case of syphilis."

"Or something really bad like a curse that would cause sudden onset of male pattern baldness." Dean couldn't help himself. He knew that since the run in with Reagan Walsh, Sida had been sniffing around The Brotherhood's Knight. Dean hoped Caleb was smart enough to stay as far away from the woman as possible, but feared Sida's stunning looks, the fact she was off limits might prove too much for his friend's sense of self preservation.

"Shut up, Deuce." Caleb growled, reaching up to run a hand through his prized locks. "She couldn't do that."

"Caleb's right," Joshua interrupted. "Sida, as powerful and as _evil_ as she is, couldn't have conjured something like this." The Advisor frowned at his step brother. "But she could easily craft a spell to have all your precious hair fall out."

"That's not funny."

"Neither is the fact you insist on flirting with the enemy. If you think for one minute she would..."

"Guys, this isn't the time or the place to hash out Caleb's disastrous libido." Sam turned to stare at The Knight. "I'm not as interested in _who_ he's been feeling up as I am in _what _he's been groping. Are you sure you didn't touch something you shouldn't have on that hunt?"

"Seriously," Caleb groaned. "You all act like I'm a two year old."

"If the shoe fits," Joshua said.

"From the guy currently without any shoes," Dean shot back, unwilling to be a party to ganging up on his best friend even though he agreed with everything his brother and Joshua were saying.

Sam held up a hand to end the verbal sparring he'd inadvertently started. He was now in what Dean liked to call Scholar mode. "How long have you two been here?"

"About fifteen minutes or so," Caleb answered. "You?"

"As far as we can tell about the same." Sam pointed at Joshua's bare feet, then gestured to his own state of dress which although much fancier than Joshua's didn't offer much more in the way of protection from the elements. "We weren't hypothermic when we came to."

Dean snorted. "That's not going to be the case for long, especially for Hugh Heffner here, if we don't find some shelter before the sun sets."

"Do either of you happen to have any weapons?" Caleb asked hopefully.

Sam lifted the lapels of his jacket revealing his favorite 9mm and a sheath that held the knife he'd taken from Ruby.

"That's my boy." Dean was pleased his brother's foray into Normalville hadn't dulled his hunting instincts. At the moment they could afford to work on having some semblance of happiness, but they could never truly let their guards down.

Caleb didn't look as proud of their Scholar. "No extra ammunition, Runt?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "I was at a black tie fundraising event with a bunch of millionaires. What do you think?"

"I think if you're going to hang out with the elite you need to realize just how much of a threat those rich old cougars pose. When Mac used to drag me along I'd go loaded for bear."

"How about you, Mama's Boy?" Dean let his brother off the hook, pointing to Joshua's sleep mask. "You got anything besides your funky Cowl of invisibility? A magic wand, maybe? Quidditch broom?"

"Not everyone is so psychologically scarred and deranged that he sleeps with a multitude of barbaric weaponry beneath his pillow."

"I'll take that as a no." Dean glanced at Caleb. "Add 'preparedness' to the ever growing list of things we're responsible for teaching Max. No godson of mine is going to be caught unaware in his girly skivvies."

Joshua folded his arms over his chest, shivering. "I truly despise you both."

Dean grunted. "See if you still feel that way when I lead your cold ass to shelter."

"I didn't think you knew where we were?" Sam frowned at his brother. "Do either of you have your cells? Gear?"

"No navigation, no maps."Caleb slapped Dean on the back. "But we have good old Lewis here at our disposal."

"It's Clark," Dean clarified with a smirk. He turned to his brother then pointed to the farmhouse he'd seen in the distance. "I may not have a compass, but I don't need one to recognize a smoking chimney, which means civilization and a telephone. We'll call in back up. Ethan's on a hunt not too far from here."

"They might not be friendly," Caleb started. "What if it's a trap?"

"You thinking Hansel and Gretel, Damien?" Dean shook his head at his friend's ability to go right to the worst case scenario in any given situation. Knights could be all doom and gloom. "Maybe you should try to get a reading see if you can pick up on any wicked witches. If there is, we'll send you in first seeing as how they seem to have a thing for you these days."

Caleb didn't rise to the bait but Dean could tell by the look of concentration on his face that he was 'feeling out the force'. "That's weird."

"It's like a black hole," Sam chimed in, taking a step closer to Caleb. "Like at Jim's farm."

Caleb nodded. "It's locked down tighter than Fort Knox. I can't even get a pinhole break."

"You're saying it's magically guarded?" Joshua took a careful step, wincing as he moved to get a better look at the homestead. "Wards? Charms?"

"Definitely wards and charms." Caleb glanced to Dean. "I can pick up hundreds of life threads around, mostly animals, even energy signatures from the trees, the streams, but it all ends somewhere near that barn. Disappears completely."

"Maybe they're hunters." Dean offered, knowing luck was never that kind to them, but also realizing that your everyday Joe didn't have access to the kind of security system Caleb was describing.

"If they are it's no damn coincidence we're here." Caleb took his gun out of its holster, sliding the ammo clip out to check it. "Any ring bearing ranks based in Wyoming?"

Dean thought for a moment. It was still new to him that he was expected to keep up with an army the size of The Brotherhood. "You do realize asking me to where all the hunters call home is like expecting The President to give roll call of the enlisted armed forces by rote."

"We have roughly fifteen members of The Brotherhood permanently based in Wyoming, several more that work this territory on a regular rotation," Sam spoke up. He had the good graces to look sheepish when Dean glared at him. "What? Carolyn and I have been working on a computerized registry."

"A registry?" Dean ran a hand through his hair. His brother was determined to modernize The Brotherhood. If Merlin had a grave, Dean was pretty sure the magician was rolling over in it.

"Perhaps we should just go ask them their status." Joshua rubbed his arms for warmth. "It would serve two purposes. Carolyn loves to verify her research."

"Since when are you so gung-ho on going into a situation half-cocked?" Caleb asked their Advisor. "Isn't this usually where you lament about the dangers of the entire Triad putting themselves at risk?"

"On the contrary," Joshua stammered. "I've always admired this Triad's direct approach, your take charge bravado."

"The hell you say." Dean snorted. As an Advisor, Joshua's standard reply was 'this situation warrants extreme caution and upmost reserve'. Dean planned on having a stamp saying that very thing made for Joshua for Christmas. "You're just worried you're going to lose a toe or something worse to frostbite."

"Fine." Joshua was bouncing up and down. "I will admit to hoping to continue this conversation inside, perhaps in front of the fire that's contributing to the smoking chimney. Your propensity for death wishes aside, I'll take witches or rogue hunters over jeopardizing certain extremities to the inclement weather. Congratulations. You win. I'm actually embracing approaching possibly hostile territory uninvited with minimal weaponry."

"So if things go bad, this is going down on the record as Joshua's idea." Dean pulled his own weapon and released the safety. "Did you get that little brother? Maybe you and Carolyn can create a bar graph of Advisor screw ups."

"Don't give the runt anymore ideas." Caleb motioned for Sam to spread out and take point, leaving him to pull up the rear with Joshua in between him and Dean. "Next thing you know we'll have to attend monthly Scholar's reports complete with spreadsheets and a power point presentation."

"A Brotherhood board meeting?" Dean kept his eyes on the terrain and on his brother as they picked up their pace with Sam skirting the tree-line ahead of them. "Could we have fancy pastries?"

"How about we have some silence as we enter this possible hostile territory with minimal weaponry?" Joshua hissed, stumbling as he attempted to match their stride without any shoes.

"So much for throwing caution to the wind and embracing our propensity for death wishes, Mama's Boy." Dean lowered his voice, but not so much that The Advisor wouldn't hear. He knew for a fact physical misery could be tempered with a little distraction.

"What do you expect from a guy who wears black silk jammies to a hunt, Deuce?" Caleb was obviously of the same mind, thoughtfully adding a barb of his own. "We'll be lucky if we don't have to carry him."

"Guys?" Sam's call interrupted any comeback Joshua might have managed. "I think we might have a problem."

"What now?" Dean growled.

Sam had stopped a few feet in front of them. He pointed to a clearing. "Does that look familiar to you?"

Dean took in the rutted path that had been worn in the bend up ahead. It wasn't so much the make shift road that was familiar but the black iron emblem that swung from two posts. A black 'W' with a cross bar.

"The Wilmington ranch." Caleb stepped to Dean's side. "Someone is living in it?"

"No one told me." Dean had inherited the ranch when Jim Murphy had been killed along with the Pastor's farm. The Wilmington Ranch stayed in trust, passing from Guardian to Guardian since the days it belonged to Daniel Wilmington, a long ago Guardian who was murdered by a vigilante group of his own men. Dean had only been to the property once led there by Meg into a trap. As far as he knew the place was still being maintained by the Geek Squad.

"This cannot be the Wilmington Ranch," Joshua pointed out. "If you recall, Malachi Harris cursed that property. Nothing was growing or flourishing the last time we were there. It was crumbling on its foundation."

"Joshua's right." Dean kept moving forward, taking in the towering pines, the pristine barns and fence line. "It's been a couple of years, but even The Property Brothers couldn't have pulled this place back from the edge."

"The Property Brothers, Deuce?" Caleb quirked a brow. "Really?"

"Juliet likes them," Dean muttered. Caleb laughed and Dean knew he'd pay for the revelation later.

"I don't think this has anything to do with a miracle renovation." Dean watched Sam stop under the archway, looking from the iron W to the homestead that was still at least a hundred yards in the distance. Dean could see that several windows glowed with yellow light in the dusk, but no outside lights burned. The barn was dark as was another out building. A horse whinnied in the distance and Dean thought he caught faint barking coming from the house. "I think this is the Wilmington Ranch before Malachi cursed it."

"You think we're _in_ the past?" Dean glanced to Caleb, hoping for a different theory, maybe even a joke about Sam's giant leap in logic. The Knight was looking towards the trees. "Damien?"

"I can't find them."

"Who?" Dean brushed against Caleb's shoulder.

"Mac, Bobby." Caleb met Dean's gaze and there was a barely controlled panic in his friend's gold eyes. "Ethan's gone too." He looked to Joshua. "Carolyn and Baby Max. All the people I have links with, except for you three."

"That would explain why you thought the place felt empty." Dean raked a hand through his hair.

"I didn't connect that the threads I have to everyone was what was missing." Caleb twisted the silver ring on his finger. "I passed it off as my senses being dulled because of whatever happened to us."

"It's possible you can't reach them because they don't exist yet," Joshua added. "I'm sure all of them are fine in our own timeline."

"You buy Sam's theory, too?" Dean looked to his Advisor, usually the last hold out when two and two wasn't adding up to four. "This is some kind of time travel?"

"It's the only thing that makes sense at the moment, and I prefer it to the notion that somehow everyone we care about has vanished leaving only the four of us to carry on." Joshua rubbed his arms shifting from foot to foot to keep one off the cold ground at all times. "It would not be the first time we have seen time manipulated."

"Like with James," Caleb spoke up. "When future you used Triad magic to send him back to us and took Sam to the future."

Dean groaned. He still hadn't forgiven the 'future' Joshua for sending back the kid Dean believed would someday be Sam's son. It had all worked out, but the logistics of it continued to give him a headache and a chill at the thought of how they might have royally screwed with the time continuum. "That was a body swap and none of us have been invaded."

"There is a way to be sure." Sam gestured to the house. "We go ask."

Dean conceded. "Who's going to knock on the door?"

"I will," Joshua volunteered. It was another uncharacteristic move. Dean was beginning to wonder if hypothermia hadn't set in.

"You really are embracing the direct approach, Mama's Boy."

"My thought is that you will probably shoot the person who answers the door," Joshua explained. "I would prefer not to piss off a whole new generation of hunters if possible."

"I'm the Knight. I'll do the honors." Caleb continued forward without giving Dean a chance to agree or Joshua to insist on having his way. He'd barely made it two steps onto the property, Dean and the others rushing to keep up when the telltale sounds of a rifle being primed stopped them all in their tracks.

"Don't make another move."

Dean ignored the command, turning to find a young man holding them at gunpoint. He looked younger than Sam by a few years, early twenties at the most. He was Dean's height but lankier. His clothes were dark, even the long duster he was wearing didn't hide the fact the shirt and pants didn't fit him well, almost like a boy playing dress up. He had blond hair that hung to his shoulders with a sharp angular face pale as moonlight. It made him look ghostly in the fading light, almost like one of the vampires from the girly novels Cas liked. If not for the dangerous glint in his dark blue eyes and the very real gun he was holding Dean might have mistaken him for an apparition.

"Who the hell are you?" Caleb edged in front of Dean, heedless of the weapon. He lifted his own gun to point at the boy.

"I'll ask the questions," Blondie snapped, swinging the gun to cover them all.

"He's a hunter." Dean caught the flash of silver on his right hand when the kid moved.

"Then he'll understand what I'm going to do to him for pointing a loaded weapon at The Guardian." Caleb growled.

"You're on protected land, devils. Leave this place before I send you back to the darkness from which you came." The hunter's eyes narrowed and Dean noted there was a wildness about them. He was beyond terrified, barely in control. It made him dangerous and unpredictable. Dean lowered his own weapon slightly, lifted a hand to touch Caleb's shoulder, to tell him to ease off.

The kid swung the rifle in his direction and before Dean could react Caleb was shoving into him. A shot rang through the night. Dean lifted his gun to retaliate, but the weapon refused to fire. He pulled the trigger again swearing when it didn't respond.

"Sonofabitch." Caleb rolled over with a growl.

Dean gripped his shoulder. "Damien?"

"I'm alright, damn it." Caleb waved Dean off. He was already struggling to his feet. "Help Sam."

Sam was managing. He had the kid pinned on the ground and Joshua had secured the rifle. The boy was fighting back, chanting in a language that Dean couldn't quite place.

"Is that Latin?" He asked Sam as they got the struggling hunter to his feet between them. "It sounds like an exorcism."

"It's Celtic," Joshua stepped forward, staring at the boy who was now glaring at their Advisor. "An old form used by the Druids, still in use by some covens today. He's recanting a spell to destroy an evil spirit."

"He thinks we're fucking ghosts?" Caleb stumbled forward, a hand covering his upper arm. Blood seeped over his fingers. "Who the hell taught him Hunting Basics 101?"

"I'm guessing his specialty might be in other areas." Joshua pointed to the hunter. The kid's shirt had slid up revealing a wash of pale skin. An intricate symbol peeked out above his sagging trousers.

"He's a witch?" Sam didn't hide the disgust in his voice. Dean's brother had developed a certain prejudice against all witch kind after his disastrous romp with Ruby. Only Joshua's coven escaped his scathing condemnation.

"Not just any witch." Joshua moved closer, now staring at the hunter's face with a complete look of astonishment and awe. Dean held the hunter tighter even though the kid had stopped struggling. Resigned to his fate as their captive he resorted to glaring at Joshua. "He's Malachi Harris."

"What?" Dean was now certain the hypothermia had most definitely set in with his Advisor. Malachi Harris was a demon, older and a whole hell of a lot cockier than the kid before them. They needed to get inside immediately. He looked to Caleb, then back to Joshua. "That's not possible."

"How do you know my name?" The hunter jerked against Dean and Sam. "What kind of creature are you?"

"We're not creatures." Joshua pointed to Caleb. "Have you ever seen a spirit bleed?" He held up his right hand. "Or ones who wear the same band as you."

"You're hunters?" Malachi looked as confused as Dean as he searched the faces of the men around him. "I don't know you."

"Allow me to introduce myself." Caleb moved forward lifting his gun and Dean knew things were about to take their usual turn for the worse. "I'm Caleb Reaves. The man who's going to end you."

"You will do no such thing." Joshua stepped between the Knight and his intended prey. He placed a hand against Caleb's chest to hold him back and lowered his voice to a hiss. "Unless you want to wreak untold havoc in ways we cannot begin to understand."

"He's right." Sam let Malachi go, glancing to his brother. "This confirms what we thought. We have to be careful."

Malachi jerked away from Dean, straightening his shirt as he moved a few steps away from them. "What exactly is going on? Why are you here?"

Caleb quickly sidestepped Joshua, aimed and attempted to fire at Harris. Luckily for Malachi and the time continuum his weapon failed, just as Dean's had.

"Are you insane?" Joshua demanded. "Did you not hear what I said?"

Dean stepped forward and wrenched the gun from his Knight. "Give it up, Dude. Our guns don't work here because they're a century before their time."

"Then I'll use my bare hands." Caleb growled, starting forward. "Or my blade. It's been around since Merlin."

"Damien." Dean blocked his way, understanding every bit of Caleb's determination to rid the world of the man before them if he indeed was Malachi Harris. He also understood every reason why he couldn't allow his friend to do so. One misstep on their parts and they could alter the future. "Take a breath. Think about what Josh is saying. You know he's right, man."

"I _know _this sucks." After a beat Caleb drew a deep breath and brought a hand to his wounded arm with a wince. "I know Joshua sucks."

"This is proof that some things hold true through the ages." Dean grinned at his Knight; waiting for the familiar smirk in return that would prove Caleb was going to listen to him. When he got confirmation the tide had turned in not a smile, but a nod, he whirled on Harris. Dean managed his most fearsome scowl, the one that sent young hunters scurrying for cover. "Now tell us what the hell you did, kid to bring us here before I change my mind and let my Knight slice and dice you into buzzard feed."

RCJ*Ti*RCJ*Ti


	2. Chapter 2

Prisoners of the Past

By: Ridley & Tidia

A/N: Thank you to all the kind reviewers and all those who took the time to privately email us with questions and comments. Your speculations always keep us on our toes and we hope not to disappoint.

RCJ*TI

"_A man cannot free himself from the past any more easily than he can from his own body."_

_~André Maurois_

"Did you say Knight?" the young man they now suspected to be Malachi Harris asked, not looking half as intimidated as Sam knew his big brother had hoped.

"Are you alone? Are there others waiting to ambush us?" Dean demanded, undaunted. He was using what Sam liked to call his 'Batman voice' and the patented John Winchester glare Dean had perfected over the years. The prisoner appeared immune to Winchester interrogation tactics. Either this younger Malachi was already past terrified or too perplexed to care. He looked from Dean to Caleb and then to Sam, his mouth clamped tightly shut. Sam figured logic and reason might get them farther than any enforcer routine.

"Maybe we should move this inside." Sam gestured to the house. "We can explain everything."

"He'll do the explaining," Dean roughly took Harris's rifle from Josh and leveled it at Malachi's chest. "What spell did you cast to bring us here? Answer me!"

"Bring you here? I have no idea what you're talking about. I didn't bring you here." Malachi held up his hands. "I thought you were spirits, or revenants, like the others that have been coming since nightfall, although you're the first to get past my wards. Now I see you're something else entirely different. Something worse. _Vultures._"

"Dean," Sam tried again. "Joshua's freezing."

Dean's face softened slightly as he glanced at their Triad's Advisor. Sam played his trump. "Caleb's bleeding."

"I'm fine," Caleb snarled, not helping Sam's argument with his bravado.

Sam glared at his more than stubborn roommate. "You'll be better _inside._ We all will."

"Sam's right. This matter can be handled just as well out of the weather." Joshua agreed. He had resorted to bouncing on his toes again, rubbing his arms. Sam suspected the rush of adrenaline brought on by Malachi's attack was waning and he was indeed freezing.

Sam watched Dean and Caleb exchange a meaningful glance. Knight and Guardian shared a silent communication almost as freakish as the psychic one Sam and Caleb could carry on when necessary.

"You lead the way." Dean poked Malachi with the rifle. "I'm going to be right behind you and you better pray no more surprises wait for us."

Sam wouldn't call the two pups that yipped and pawed at Malachi's legs as he entered the cabin ahead of them a surprise. They were all long legs and lean bodies, white and gray, almost wolf-like. The pig was unexpected. It was lying in front of the massive stone fire place on what looked like a horse blanket. It rose with a friendly grunt and snort as they entered. The puppies backed up to stand alongside it as the strangers entered as if sensing the charge of danger in the air.

"Do not harm the animals." Malachi said as Dean then Caleb filed in, closing the door behind him. "They pose no threat to you. They're family pets."

Valiant defender of animal kind was not an image Sam could reconcile with the Malachi Harris he knew, but the sight of the Wilmington cabin in all its glory ate away at the last of his doubts that they had indeed somehow been transplanted into the past. The place was just as Sam remembered from their time spent their as Meg's captives, although currently freed from a century of decay and rot. It shone with reserved grandeur, spoke to the wealth Sam understood from research Daniel Wilmington's family had accrued as generations of successful ranchers, but with a warm aura that only belonged to well lived-in, well-loved places. It looked a lot like the Cartwright's impressive homestead from the old Bonanza episodes Bobby Singer used to watch religiously when Sam was a little boy, complete with the massive oak stairway that led to a second landing and the great wooden table with eight settings in dining area with swinging doors that Sam imagined led to a kitchen. He almost expected Hop Sing, the Cartwright's cook to appear and call them to dinner.

"We don't hurt innocents." Dean's voice brought Sam from his musings. His brother still had the gun pointed at Malachi. He used it to gesture to one of the chairs at the table and reluctantly Harris took a seat. Dean flipped another chair around, straddling it and placing the gun over the back. Caleb moved in on the other side of the kid, looming over him. Dean tapped the barrel of the rifle. "But conniving evil witches are another story all together."

If it were possible, Malachi's skin blanched further. His pale flawless face became almost translucent in the glow of the firelight and lamps. Sam almost felt bad for him. "You're mistaken. I'm not a witch. I have no idea what you're talking about."

"We saw your fancy brand," Dean reminded Malachi. "Covens put their mark on their own like ranchers do cattle."

"Even with the cultural phenomena of supernatural creatures being in vogue, claiming to be a witch in our time isn't always met with approval." Joshua said from his place by the fire. Sam knew it spoke to his friend's misery that he hadn't shied away from the space where the pig and pups were now snuffling at his bare feet. He also hadn't acknowledged Dean's insulting comparison between the magical mark of a coven and the crude fire brand of a calf. "In the 1800's, acknowledging such would have been akin to suicide, or in the least subjecting oneself to excommunication from society as a pariah or perhaps a madman. Even among our ranks I imagine it was not talked about, being as taboo as the psychic abilities of a Scholar."

"He's speaking from experience," Dean pointed at Joshua. "He's our very own madman."

"He's our Advisor," Sam explained flashing his brother a disapproving frown before meeting Malachi's gaze. "Most Brotherhood Advisors are well-versed in magic as you probably know. They're often members of covens, despite the strained relations between witches and hunters."

"You're a witch?" Malachi ignored Sam, focusing instead on Joshua.

"I am well-versed in the art of crafting." Joshua came forward. He lifted the tail of his silk shirt revealing the mark of his coven on his side, the one he'd been forced to take as a price for said coven helping to heal Caleb from a curse cast by one of their own. "I think you're familiar with my circle, though I imagine even in this time our covens have little regard for one another."

Malachi nodded slowly. Sam noticed he seemed more impressed with Joshua's mark than he had been with their hunter's bands. "They are of different minds, but still cut from the same cloth."

Caleb snorted. "Meaning your coven is not above using the darker side of crafting to suit its purposes. Is that how you brought us here, Malachi? You rip something's heart out and let it bleed out on an altar to trap us in one of your grand schemes?"

"I did no such thing." Harris looked from Caleb to Joshua. "I do not condone some of the more unsavory practices of my coven. My father was a hunter, his father before him. My mother is a powerful witch, but I am loyal to The Brotherhood. To my Triad."

"So now you're admitting you're a witch." Dean leaned further into Malachi's space.

"I'm telling you I am The Advisor to Daniel Wilmington's Triad." Malachi lifted his chin. For the first time Sam recognized a glimpse of the haughty Harris he was used to in the face of this much younger man. "If you are truly hunters as you claim, then you will know what horrors await you if you dare harm me."

"I'm not just any hunter, Harris." Dean lowered his voice."I'm Dean Winchester. Guardian of The Brotherhood, which if you are who and what you claim to be you should know what's going to befall you if you don't tell me what I want to know."

"That's not possible," Malachi shook his head. "Daniel Wilmington is The Guardian. There can be only one Guardian."

"Yeah," Dean conceded. "Well where I'm from that's me."

"What you're saying is akin to heresy, blasphemy."

"Says the traitor," Caleb growled.

"Traitor?" Malachi's face twisted with anger and indignation. "I would never betray my Triad. I've acted with nothing but honor in this less than perfect situation and I've been doing everything humanly possible to find them since their disappearance."

"What do you mean you've been trying to find them?" Sam moved forward, pieces starting to fall into place. If Malachi was searching for his Triad, it could very well explain why they had been transported to the past. "Are you saying your Triad is missing?"

"As if you didn't know?" Malachi looked from Dean to Caleb and then to Sam. "Is that not why you're trying this ruse? Like I said earlier-vultures, the lot of you. Are you really so ignorant of our ways to think that you can step in and claim their positions so easily. Don't think I haven't heard the rumblings in our ranks. The outbreak of Yellow Fever might have sped up their initiation, but it is one that was destined to happen. Just because they are a new Triad, a young Triad, doesn't mean their authority is diminished. Samuel may not be a legacy, but he is by far the best Scholar The Brotherhood has ever known. Daniel, Cole and Samuel have gone through the proper coronation. Kidnapping them will not change who they are, or by whom they have been elected. Merlin and The Lady will have their say and..."

"Did you say kidnapped?" Sam asked at the same time that Joshua spoke.

"Were you attempting to cast a spell to locate them?"

Malachi was looking at Joshua, but wasn't answering as if he were wary he had already said too much.

"That's it, isn't it?" Joshua continued and Sam knew their Advisor and he were sharing similar thoughts. "You cast some sort of scrying spell to locate your Triad."

"Yes, I tried scrying for them after the hunters turned up nothing," Malachi admitted. "But it didn't work. I used everything I could think of as a link to them, their journals, Samuel's watch, even a bit of blood from one of the pups because their mother is Cole's dog, Sky. She is never far from his side, but it's as if they have all vanished."

"Then you turned to the Vangelo?" Joshua surmised.

Sam knew it wasn't a huge leap considering the Malachi Harris they had come to know depended on the Vangelo for his incredible power. It was an ancient text passed through generations of witches. Even Joshua had fallen under its spell for a while, the pull and lure of such knowledge too much for any mere mortal. Sam had been the one to finally destroy it, destroying the last trace of Malachi Harris in the process.

"How do you know of the..." Malachi started.

"That fucking book," Dean growled, standing. He shoved his chair away, keeping a grip on the rifle. "You think a spell from that book brought us here?"

"Did you incorporate a spell from the Vangelo into your search for your Triad?" Joshua ignored Dean's angry outburst, never taking his eyes from Malachi. "Perhaps the reunion incantation?"

Malachi's eyes widened. "How could you possibly know..."

"Answer his damn question, kid." Caleb clamped a hand on Malachi's shoulder, leaving a bloodied smear on the witch's duster. Sam didn't admonish the rough handling fearing Caleb may need the physical support to stay on his feet if his sweat covered face and pained grimace was any indication of how his 'fine' status was holding up under the gunshot wound.

"Yes." The kid nodded. "My grandmother let me search its contents for a spell that might help. She is loyal to our coven, but I'm her only grandchild. She suggested the reunion spell because she believed them dead. I didn't want to accept that as a possibility, but I had no other way to explain their continued absence. They've been gone for days. They would have told me if they were going on an extended hunt. Daniel would not have left the ranch unmanned, nor Cole his post as deputy. It is not Samuel's nature to abandon the animals without care or his projects."

"The spell calls for a representation of the ones you seek. What did you use?" Joshua asked.

"The symbol for The Triad of course. It seemed appropriate," Malachi answered.

"Shit." Dean rubbed a hand over his face, turning to look at Joshua. "Tell me that does not mean what I think it means?"

Sam understood exactly what it meant. Malachi Harris had inadvertently tapped into Triad power, which was ironic since in their time, Malachi was obsessed with the ancient source of magic willing to do anything to be a part of it.

"He attempted Triad magic without his acting Triad." Joshua confirmed. "As we know it is highly unpredictable even with an intact Triad."

"Triad magic?" Malachi also looked to Joshua. "I have never heard of such a thing."

Joshua glanced to Sam, hesitation registering in his blue gaze. He was obviously thinking the same thing as Sam. The demon Malachi had been the one to instruct them on the incredible untapped potential of The Triad, yet here they were introducing the concept to the seemingly young, naive Advisor he'd once been. The implications were mind boggling.

"I can't explain to you how it works, but there is magic in The Triad symbol when it's used by a member of The Triad. Even an Advisor can tap into it, although its outcome is rarely what one might expect."

"Meaning you were an idiot to try it." Dean slammed his palm on the table causing Harris to jump. "Your call for a lost Triad worked, but it didn't bring your Triad. It brought ours."

"Brought yours? Brought you from where?"

"The future, asshole," Caleb growled, letting the hunter go. "Over a hundred years down the road."

"Which I don't fully understand." Sam turned to Joshua. Something wasn't adding up. Malachi had obviously not understood what he was doing, the power he was calling forth. "Why is that? We shouldn't have any link to Wilmington at this point or to Malachi."

"The objects of power? That has to be it." Joshua looked to Malachi once more. "What objects of power did you use to amplify the spell, to denote each member of your Triad."

"I incorporated the elements, of course," Malachi stuttered. "An ember of fire for the Knight, Quartz for the Scholar, and water for The Guardian..."

"Like he coached us when we were calling for Sam and Caleb when the vampires had them," Dean said to Joshua.

Sam wasn't aware of all that went on between the demon Malachi and his brother during the time he and Caleb had been held captive by vengeful vampires, a plot Malachi himself had helped hatch, but he'd tricked Dean into returning his ring, reestablishing him as a member of The Brotherhood a century after he'd been stripped of the privilege and committed suicide.

"Yes, but I'm guessing he went beyond that." Joshua returned his gaze to Malachi. "You are nothing if not methodic when it comes to crafting. You would have used something more personal as well, just as you taught me to do. Something tied to their position in the Triad."

"Like something from Wilmington's stockpile of weapons?" Caleb asked, his voice full of dread.

"Yes." Malachi hesitated. "I used the same objects as we used in the recent coronation to symbolize their positions. A blade, The Dragon's Talon, for Cole, The Staff of Moses, for Daniel. The Eye of Isis for Samuel."

Sam recalled their Triad's ceremony from not that long ago. Missouri and Joshua had spent a whole day in the Tomb selecting objects that would embody each member's unique characteristics. Sam still had the lantern purportedly carried by the Headless Horseman during his nightly haunted quests in his room at the farm. He'd wondered at the time if Joshua had endured a moment of sick humor-the idea of a man missing his head representing The Scholar. Later Sam realized it had been much more thoughtful on his friend's behalf. The Headless Horseman's ride all about seeking what he'd lost in battle, the elusive piece that would make him whole again. Sam was on very similar journey.

"What exactly is The Eye of Isis?" Caleb's demand snapped Sam from his reverie. The Knight was still standing in front of Malachi, but his gaze was locked on Dean as he seemed to be bracing himself for the witch's answer.

"A mysterious pendant of great power," Malachi explained. "I helped Samuel choose it on the day of the ceremony. It's been in Brotherhood protection for years, rumored to be able to see into other worlds, to trap and harness great power. Samuel is always saying knowledge is the greatest power one can possess so considering The Scholar's gift is insight and foresight, I thought it appropriate and..."

"Azazeal's amulet." Caleb swayed, bringing a hand to his injured arm.

"Damien," Dean moved before Sam could. He gripped Caleb's arm, steering The Knight to the chair he'd vacated and forced him to sit down. "You don't know that, man."

"I'm afraid Caleb may be right." Joshua sighed. "It would explain why the spell linked to us, brought us here."

"The connection to our Triad was stronger than the one to Malachi's." Sam pulled at his bowtie, loosening it as the room seemed to grow hotter. Noah Seaver, Caleb's great, great grandfather had somehow obtained the amulet, the one Malachi called 'The Eye of Isis' from Wilmington's Triad, using it to summon Azazeal, who in return possessed the preacher. The necklace was a direct link to the yellow-eyed demon therefore connected to Caleb and to a lesser extent, Sam due to the fact the demon's blood ran through both their veins.

"Or it proves that Triad magic can be hokey," Dean growled. "We all know it works the way it wants to half the time for reasons we can't understand. Old Merlin having his way, the rest of us be damned. Maybe he wanted us here."

"You truly expect me to believe you three are a Triad?" Malachi looked at Dean. "From another time?"

Dean folded his arms over the rifle. "I don't care what you believe Harris, as long as you put us back where we belong."

"It would explain your strange dress," Harris looked from Joshua to Sam, doubt flickering in his blue eyes. Sam imagined he was weighing the possibility of what they were saying against his experiences. If this Malachi rang true with the one Sam knew, he was searching for a way that their presence might be used to benefit him in some way. He gestured to Sam's tux. "I thought you might be some sort of undertaker. In fact you resemble a gunslinger who goes by that name, aptly called so because of the business he provides for those who service the dead."

"Burying you is still on the table," Dean threatened, before Sam could speak to the strangeness of his tuxedo or likeness to a Wild West serial killer. "If you don't cooperate and reverse the spell."

"It might not be that simple, Dean," Joshua hedged.

"Why not, Josh?"

"Because as we have said attempting Triad magic without a Triad is a great gamble."

Dean waved an arm to encompass Caleb and then pointed at Sam. "Intact Triad at your service."

Joshua shook his head and Sam felt for their Advisor. Dean was not the easiest person to deliver bad news to on a good day. "This is not our time. You three are not a Triad here."

Sam watched his brother quickly scan the room. Dean moved with purpose as he crossed the small dining area where he placed the gun on the table and picked up a cup on the opposite end. He sniffed it then poured it on the table. A brown liquid Sam suspected was old coffee splashed across the surface, running along the seams of the oak to drip on the floor where the puppies rushed to lap it up. Dean placed his hand in the blackish-brown trail and his face scrunched in concentration. Sam suspected his brother hoped to transform the liquid to silver, a talent he'd become quite adept at over his first year as Guardian, but nothing happened.

"What the..."

"It is not your time," Joshua reiterated slowly as if speaking to a recalcitrant child.

"Like our guns." Dean slammed the cup onto the table, eliciting a whine from the pups, who scurried away from the mess on the floor. "Damn it."

"Then what the hell do we do?" Caleb asked.

"You help me find my Triad." Malachi's answer proved Sam's theory that the witch was calculating just how the situation might be manipulated to his advantage. He wasn't surprised when Dean strode to stand in front of Malachi once more, murder flashing in his green gaze.

"Why the hell would we ever help you, Harris?"

"Because you wear the same band as I. If what you say is true, and you are a Guardian, surely that still means something in the future. Besides if you help me find them, then we can use this Triad power Joshua talks about to send you back where you belong." Malachi looked to Joshua. "True?"

"It would appear to be our best hope."

"Great. Just freaking great." Dean lifted his hands in a gesture of frustration and capitulation Sam had witnessed on many occasions. It was usually followed by a rant and rave about how Fate screwed them over.

"Where should we start?" Sam hoped focusing on a plan might quickly move them past his brother's lament.

"I can..." Malachi started, rising from his chair.

Dean shoved him back in the seat. "You can start by telling me where you keep your first aid kit."

"First aid?" Malachi questioned.

Dean gestured to Caleb. "Medicine. Bandages. Herbs. Whatever you have that might help me patch up my Knight, seeing as how you shot him."

"I'm truly sorry about that." Harris looked to Caleb. "I have been bombarded by strange attacks. I truly thought you all were more creatures."

"Another side effect of using Triad magic," Dean said. "It sends a psychic boom through the spirit world. You're lucky you didn't attract every demon in a ten mile radius."

"Demons?" Malachi's face scrunched.

"A simple protection circle is not enough to contain the energy emitted from Triad magic," Joshua translated for the other witch. "Special precautions have to be taken when using the power. It can draw a rather diverse unwanted element, especially those from the underworld."

"In other words the very bad guys swarm to it like moths around a flame," Dean continued.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know."

Caleb only glared at Harris. "Excuse me if my experience of you leaves me doubting your sincerity."

"Your experience of me?" Malachi's face lit up. "If you come from one hundred years in the future, does that mean I survived such a great time? My magic must progress immensely if I manage immortality."

Dean opened his mouth to say something, but Joshua rushed to cut him off. "You'll understand that we should tell you as little as possible about the future. Any knowledge could have disastrous far reaching consequences for many."

"Almost as bad as the consequences you're going to experience firsthand and quite immediately if Caleb continues to bleed." Dean moved out of the way, gesturing for Malachi to get up.

Malachi stood, uncertain. "Daniel typically keeps some supplies on hand, bandages and herbal remedies, but if you are in need of sulfur drugs, we'll have to venture into town tomorrow to see the doctor."

"Doctor Quinn?" Caleb asked hopefully, eliciting a half-hearted chuckle from Dean. "I wouldn't mind letting the Medicine Woman poke and prod me."

"You wish, Damien."

Sam felt a few knots of tension unfurl along his shoulders as his brother and Caleb reverted to their more typical inappropriate banter. He decided to play the straight man. "Elizabeth Blackwell was the first woman physician in the United States in the middle 1800's and she was in New York not the Old West."

"Was she hot?"

Caleb's reply had Sam's mouth twitching, fighting to maintain a look of disgust. "I doubt she was your version of beautiful."

"Our doctor is not female nor of particular fair countenance, however he seems competent in his skills," Malachi offered. "As I understand it, he has knowledge of Creek and Crow medicine as well."

"Thanks." Dean waved Malachi away. "Josh, go with Helpful Much here and make sure medical supplies are the only things he brings back. Maybe he can scrounge you and Sammy up some clothes while he's at it."

When the two were safely up the stairs Dean turned his attention to Caleb.

"It's just a scratch," Caleb said as he struggled out of his coat. "The kid grazed me-a horrible shot."

Sam had found some folded towels on a counter and passed them to his brother. "The amount of blood says differently."

"What is it with you Winchesters and your skepticism?" Caleb grunted when Dean pressed the towels against the shoulder wound, staunching the blood flow until the supplies arrived.

"Downside of our upbringing I guess." Dean smirked, guiding Caleb's hand to hold the makeshift bandage while he looked around the room. "John Winchester didn't raise any Pollyannas."

"He didn't entertain fools either, but here we are playing right into Malachi Harris's hand once again like a bunch of suckers," Caleb offered as Dean walked around the perimeter of the kitchen picking up a bowl and pitcher of water.

"It's not like we have a choice in the matter," Sam replied moving to stoke the fire that was dwindling. He added a log, scratching the pig behind the ears as it bumped its snout against him. They would need to boil water to clean whatever supplies Malachi recovered. Infection would be their enemy, especially in a non-sterile setting without the antibiotics and disinfectants they were accustomed to.

"There are always choices," Caleb parroted Pastor Jim. Sam wished the former Guardian's words held water here.

"I guess we could choose to stay in 1800's Wyoming and live out all those boyhood cowboy fantasies. Maybe take up ranching and live our lives out on the range." Dean made his way back to Caleb. "The whiskey is probably the same; obviously there are still bad guys to kill and saloon girls to bed. I'm all for their quick justice and public hangings, but I'd really miss the important things like television, microwaveable burritos, and indoor plumbing. Not to mention our friends and family."

"Smart ass." Caleb sighed. "I know we have to get back home. I just don't like our only option being the likes of Malachi Harris."

"He seems different here." Sam wasn't naive, but he also knew how one horrible incident could send a body spiraling down a dark road. _This _Malachi didn't seem to be tainted by the evil that ruled him in their time. "Maybe Malachi was a decent guy at one point. Maybe something happened to him that caused him to turn."

"And maybe Mr. Pork Chop over there by the fire will take off flying anytime now." Dean waved at the pig that grunted and rooted into his blanket as if understanding his current scrutiny. "Malachi Harris can't be trusted, wide-eyed kid or not, he's still the same on the inside. He still caused the deaths of his Guardian and Knight, not to mention the havoc he wreaked in our own time."

Sam motioned for his brother to keep his voice down. "I know that. I'm just saying we're obviously not dealing with that man at this point in time. He seems genuinely concerned for his Triad."

"How old is he anyway?" Caleb hissed as Dean moved the towel away to get a closer look at the wound. "Like ten?"

"I'm guessing late teens maybe early twenties." Sam glanced up the stairs. He could hear footfalls moving around, muffled voices and the puppies scurrying about above them as they had given chase to Joshua and Malachi. "He seems educated, maybe went back East for schooling. I'd bet his Triad are young too. Remember in this time, you're pretty much an old timer."

"Fuck you, Runt." Caleb growled. "I'm like thirty five."

"Give or take a few years." Dean grinned. "Mostly give."

"Twenty-five is basically middle age here." Sam continued. "Considering infectious diseases, like the Yellow Fever that Malachi mentioned, lack of adequate medical treatment, and harsh living conditions, making it to sixty was considered a feat."

"So we're dealing with a missing Triad consisting of teenagers?" Dean glanced up the stairs and Sam knew his brother was itching to yell for their Advisor to hurry the hell up. Instead, he took the pitcher of water he'd found and crossed to the fire. "That should be fun."

Sam shrugged. "I don't know. From what I've read of Samuel's journal, they were a long running Triad. At least twenty years. They died young for our time, but in actuality they'd probably lived a considerable life. Hunters feared and revered them. That had to start somewhere."

"Let's not forget they died horrible, unspeakable deaths, at least Wilmington and Tanner," Caleb added. "And we know who was to blame."

"That's not something we can change," Sam saw the quick glance exchanged between Knight and Guardian. Neither looked abashed by Sam's warning. Caleb moved his gaze to the stairs while Dean busied himself filling the iron pot that hung from a metal grate at the fire's side. "You both realize that, right? You know that anything we do here even if it seems for the greater good could cause disastrous results, the kind of results that might even erase us."

"We get it, Marty McFly," Dean assured. "The time continuum can't be screwed with."

"You're telling me if we ever ended up in good old Nazi Germany a few years before Hitler came into power you wouldn't track the sonofabitch down and have a quick salt and burn."

Caleb's question was age old. One Sam had heard before. He glanced to his brother, who continued to busy himself instead of offering a comment, though Sam knew exactly what he was thinking. Like Caleb, he wouldn't think twice about doing something that seemed so starkly right and true, something that on the surfaced would reasonably save countless lives. It was in their nature, but Sam understood that things were never quite so black and white. "How would I know that by killing him, I wouldn't be opening the void for something or someone much worse to take his place, unleashing a whole other kind of horror? Or that any good that might have flourished in the wake of what he did to the world would be erased. Who am I to make that judgment? Who are you?"

Caleb looked ready to argue, or maybe punch Sam, but Dean returned inserting himself between Scholar and Knight. "Spoken like a true Scholar. Right, Damien? Looks like Sammy's been practicing the pompous speeches while away at school."

"Scholars don't need much practice in that area." Sam supposed Caleb's half smirk was meant to lighten the insult. "Self righteousness comes natural to them."

"Just like pigheadedness in Knights," Sam shot back, not bothering with a buffer. "I guess all positions have some inherent flaws."

"Like Advisors and their annoying tendency to piss me off." Dean cupped his hands so that his shout echoed even louder against the log walls. "Josh, get your ass down here with those supplies."

"Nice, Dean." Sam shook his head at his brother's impatience, something that had nothing to do with him being The Guardian, but was all Dean.

Dean only flashed a self congratulatory smile when his means garnered results. Joshua came stomping down the stairs along with Malachi, who was toting a large metal box. Joshua had changed out of the pajamas, now sporting a loose cotton long sleeve white shirt which he was still buttoning. It came complete with a dark leather vest and a pair of brown wool trousers. He was still barefoot but had a pair of scuffed cowboy boots tucked under one arm and had several other articles of clothing draped over his other. Sam tried not to smile as his brother greeted their Scholar with a rousing 'Howdy Tex'.

"Check those pants," Caleb said. "Is that buckskin lining the crotch?"

"And the inseams," Malachi nodded. "It's helpful for long range rides."

"I would hold off on the insults until you yourself have gone through the available wardrobe," Joshua cautioned, placing shirts and pants on the table. "It consists mostly of scratchy wool, rivets and questionable cotton. There are also some highly suspect fur-lined coats upstairs that would have PETA up in arms, but that Malachi tells me are quite effective in blocking out the Wyoming cold. Bear, I believe. Although considering your penchant for buying clothes at swap meets, thrift stores and concert venues, it might be a step up for you and The Guardian."

"Daniel's things should fit you two." Malachi gestured to Dean and Caleb. He seemed quite pleased with his assistance in Joshua's transformation and willing to help in doing the same for the others. His smile faltered slightly when he took in Sam. "I'm afraid you're a bit taller than most, Scholar, but Samuel's shirts and coats should do until we can go into town tomorrow."

"My name's Sam Winchester." Sam didn't think telling Malachi their names would harm the continuum anymore than their mere presence had already. Besides he felt strange being called by his title.

"You're a Scholar and Samuel's namesake?"

"I think the names are a coincidence." Sam gestured to his Triad."This is my brother, Dean and Caleb."

"Yes." Malachi's smile widened. "Joshua's brother."

Sam ducked his head when Caleb shot their Advisor an incredulous look at the disclosure of information, especially to someone Caleb considered the enemy.

"Step brother," Dean clarified. Sam found it ironic that Dean loved to torture his best friend about his and Joshua's sibling by marriage status, even two years after Mac and Esme had exchanged vows; yet found it necessary to point out to anyone else that the relationship was established on paper only. In Dean's mind Caleb already had two brothers and that was plenty. "They barely tolerate each other."

"As is the case with many Knights and Advisors," Malachi shared a look with Joshua. "If there are articles and supplies you still need such as boots, we have a well-stocked general store near the doctor's office that I can show you while Caleb is being seen to."

"I don't need a doctor," Caleb asserted. "And I'm fine with being referred to as The Knight."

Dean rolled his eyes, snatching the supplies from Sam. "I would hold off on the macho act, 'Knight', until we see what great wonders of medicine Harris has brought us."

There was nothing wondrous about Malachi's supply, nowhere near what they were used to. Sam hadn't expected the kind of kit Mac stocked for them all, the likes of those used by professional first responders, but he'd hoped for more. As it was, they were lucky Caleb's shoulder wound was a clean through and through. They had a bottle of whiskey. The box Malachi had presented them with was a cast off from a Yankee regiment. It contained various probes and cutting tools, even a bone saw that had Caleb paling and Dean joking about amputation. The exit wound was worrisome, and Sam knew that the type of ammunition of the time lent to tissue damage and infection. He hoped the herbal concoction Joshua and Malachi put together as a poultice and the tea they brewed would help until they could visit town.

"So what now?" Caleb rolled his shoulder when Dean had done what he could to the wound and bandaged it. Sam decided they would definitely be seeing the doctor tomorrow. It might have merely been the heat of the fire, but Sam thought his roommate looked flushed and a bit feverish.

Sam slid the mug of tea in Caleb's direction. "I guess we settle in for the night."

"We can start researching this gig by questioning Harris about the disappearance." Dean glanced to the kitchen where Malachi and Joshua had gone, Malachi promising to produce a stew they would find completely palatable. "That is if we survive his cooking."

"I think Joshua will see to it he doesn't poison us." Sam nudged the tea again until Caleb rolled his eyes and picked it up. Once he'd taken a drink Sam turned to offer his brother another shirt and a pair of wool pants from the stack Malachi had procured from raiding his Triad's rooms. "Might as well go change."

"I don't think so." Dean gestured to his dark shirt, jeans and leather jacket. "My clothes are fine. I'm practically authentic."

"Blue jeans weren't invented until the late 1800's." Sam shoved the clothes at Dean harder this time, wondering if Mac had also taken on the role as surrogate mother with his Triad. "Even when Levi Strauss introduced them, they were too expensive for your typical rancher. You'll look like a foreigner and you know Dad's rule about blending into your surroundings during a hunt. We have to look the part."

Dean glared at his brother. "Thanks, Mr. Trivia."

"You're welcome." Sam grinned, imagining his brother in chaps and a cowboy hat. "Tex."

"Why are you looking like the cat who swallowed the canary, Runt?" Caleb put down the tea and slid into one of the shirts he'd picked, dark gray, as close to black as possible in the pickings. "You're going to look absolutely ridiculous in that bowler hat Malachi has planned for you."

Sam pinned the Knight with a hard stare, folding his arms over his chest. "You've been reading him?"

"Like a Tom Clancy novel." Caleb finished the last of the buttons, tugging at the uncomfortable material. "He's got good blocks, but nothing like the older Malachi."

"So he's been on the level about the disappearance?" Dean put the clothes on the table and glanced towards the kitchen door once more.

"He doesn't know where his Triad is. Sam's guess about the schooling was right. Malachi was brought back from some fancy prep school in New York only a couple of months ago when Yellow Fever struck the town and killed the current Triad along with half the citizens of Caanan."

"Canaan?" Sam frowned. "Like in the Bible?"

"I guess," Caleb rubbed his arm. "Though if Malachi's thoughts about returning here are any indication, I doubt this place is much of a promised land. He wasn't happy to be pulled out of school and civilization to serve as Advisor, although he'd been raised for the position since he was a little kid."

"So, Wilmington's predecessor dies unexpectedly along with the rest of his Triad, triggering the need to establish a new order quickly." Dean ran a hand through his hair. "That sounds vaguely familiar."

"At least we had Mac," Sam said feeling a sudden pang of sympathy for Harris and his Triad. He at one time had also felt betrayed and short changed by a terrible twist of fate.

"Speaking of Mac, maybe he's working on way to find us as we speak," Caleb suggested. "He and Eli have to know by now that you're missing. Surely Carolyn's realized Josh isn't just ducking Max's nightly feeding."

"Or only a few minutes have passed where they are." Sam hated to squash Caleb's hope that they might find another way out of the current situation, but they had experienced other forms of time shifts, whether it be through astral projection, or angelic manipulations. The threads did not run linear. "The properties of time don't always hold true to what we're used to."

"Like when I was in Hell," Dean said. "Where four months was more on forty years."

Sam merely nodded, a lump springing to his throat at the mention of the sacrifice his brother made to save his life. Dean rarely spoke of the ordeal, but when he did it always rendered Sam speechless, leaving him with a feeling of defeat all over again, an ache that he was still failing his brother because he had no words to offer that might help.

"Let's hope we'll be here a few days at the most." Caleb came to Sam's rescue. He never mentioned Hell or the time Dean was away or the things he and Sam had done to survive. "I don't plan on testing Sammy's theory about me being ready for the retirement home here."

"They didn't set an old geezer up in nice assisted living facilities in the Old West, Dude." Dean sorted through the clothes on the table until he found a dark blue one with leather stitched along the elbows. Sam hadn't seen it earlier or would have picked it for his brother. The color suited The Guardian. "They put old mules out to pasture, or maybe just put them out of their misery with a quick bullet to the head."

"Now you're full of trivia." Caleb kicked Dean. "Just another reason for us to do what we need to do to get the hell out of here ASAP."

Joshua chose that moment to appear in the doorway. "Dinner is served, but you will not be waited on by yours truly or our host for the evening."

"I think that's Josh's way of telling us to get up off our asses and come grab some vittles." Dean jerked his chin towards the Advisor. "The Old West is making him cocky."

"More inspiration to hurry this along." Caleb stood, swaying when he was on his feet. Sam and Dean rushed to help, both looking chagrined when faced with their own panic mirrored in the other's reaction. They were being ridiculous. Sam was the first to step back, reading Caleb's thoughts. He knew the Knight was on to them.

"I'm fine." Caleb's declaration wasn't as harsh as before. He met Dean's gaze then Sam's. Sam could read the understanding in his gold eyes. They had nearly lost him, and although Sam was surprised that he and his brother were obviously still shaken by the scare, Caleb seemed resigned to it. Knights might have been pigheaded, but Caleb was never cold-hearted or detached. In fact, he was empathetic to a fault, a trait that was all him, and one that could get him into trouble with the Winchesters. He didn't say the words that he wasn't sick anymore, at least not out loud, but Sam heard the assurances skip through his mind and imagined Dean did as well. "It's a bullet wound, of which I have had much worse. If it will make you feel better, I'll see the damn doctor in town, hot medicine woman or not."

"He might have a cute nurse, Damien."

"Doubtful," Sam stated, ready to spout off facts about the reality women rarely held work outside the home. The twin frowns shot in his direction had him changing his tune. After all they had just travelled a hundred or more years into the past and were on a hunt to rescue a Triad that helped shape their future. "But like Pastor Jim used to say, anything and everything is possible."

Ti&RcJ&Ti&RcJ


	3. Chapter 3

Prisoners of the Past

A/N: Well, I could blame this on the case of 'I've been cooped up with a child, an overgrown Labrador puppy, and two cats for almost a week', but I will come clean and admit that I was multi-tasking, not my strong suit. Thank you to all the kind reviewers who helped me see the error of my ways. I was quite embarrassed. Forgive me. The wrong chapter has been deleted and I promise to have the correct chapter up before the night is over!


	4. Chapter 4

Prisoners of the Past

By: Ridley and Ti

A/N: Again, so sorry for the mix-up earlier. Hope this one makes much more since-talk about time travel. ;-0 Thank you so much to those who have taken the time to review. Your input is as always greatly appreciated.

RCJ* TI

"_The past should be left in the past, otherwise it can destroy your future. Live life for what tomorrow has to offer, not for what yesterday has taken away." -anonymous_

Dean was beginning to believe it was quite possible that every Western he'd watched growing up was mostly fabricated, or at least majorly lacking in accuracy. At first glance Canaan looked little like the Dodge City of Dean's dreams. The buildings were small and shabby, a general store, the saloon, livery, and a small boarding house. The doctor's office was next door to the jail above the undertaker which Dean figured was convenient. They'd had to climb the back stairs, and the sight of three fresh wooden coffins propped against the bat and board building was foreboding. Caleb had made a joke about profit sharing but Dean sensed his wariness. The Knight had been antsy on their long ride from the ranch. Dean blamed it on the fact they hadn't been on horseback in years and Malachi was playing tour guide. There was the possibility Caleb had developed a fever through the night and his shoulder was bothering him, but Dean pushed the morose line of thinking away.

"It's a lot dirtier than I imagined." Dean took his gaze from the window he'd been staring out at the sound of his brother's voice. Sam had abandoned his inspection of the small waiting area and was holding back the curtain so he could see out also. "The streets are nothing but mud and filth"

"Just think, Sammy, if we don't make it out of here, we could make a killing as a road crew."Dean pushed the brim of his borrowed cowboy hat. The clothes weren't as bad as he thought. He raised a brow. "Winchester Concrete and Paving."

Sam snorted, letting go of the drapes. "Like I could keep you and Caleb out of the Saloon, slash brothel, long enough to get any real work done."

Dean grinned at his brother's uncharacteristic attempt to play along. "Speaking of saloons, I think we should head over to 'The Watering Hole' when Damien is finished up here."

"It's a little early for a beer." Sam took off his bowler hat, trying to readjust the rim so it fit his head better. "And the working women are probably off duty."

"I was thinking about breakfast, bitch," Dean snatched the hat away. Nothing could be done to make Samuel Colt's headwear look right on Sam Winchester's mop-covered head. It looked ridiculous and Dean had given Joshua orders to find a replacement for it at the store where Malachi had taken him for the other supplies they needed. They'd visit the gunsmith after Caleb was done. "Harris said there's a small restaurant in the back. They have pie."

"Pie?" Sam shook his head. "How about talking to the hunters Malachi mentioned, or maybe the sheriff."

"A man has to have his priorities." Dean was all for getting started on the gig, but Malachi's cooking had proved lacking and the hardtack and dried deer meat Dean had opted to eat over their host's version of mush was not making a dent in his appetite.

The opening of the door interrupted Sam's reply, but Dean caught the roll of his brother's eyes as they stepped forward to intercept Caleb, who exited from the adjoining room with the doctor. Dean grinned at his Knight. "So, you got to keep the arm I see?"

Caleb snorted, rolling the shoulder in question. "Doc patched me up good as new."

"As long as he takes this, I think he'll be fine." The doctor wisely gave the brown bottle of medicine to Dean. "Twice a day until it's all gone. The tincture should take care of his fever as well."

Dean smirked at Caleb, slipping the bottle into the pocket of his black duster. "I'll make sure he follows doctor's orders."

"Thank you." Sam handed the doctor a few of the coins Malachi had given them, overpaying the old man if the look of delight on his bearded face was any indication.

"Thank you." The doctor slipped the money into his pocket, gesturing to Caleb. "The school building I was telling you about is just up the road a piece, not far from town."

"Thanks," Caleb slipped his hat on, nodding to the doctor as he edged past Dean.

Dean turned following, counting on Sam to grab his coat. He had a sudden epiphany as to why Caleb had been so twitchy on their way into town. "What's with the sudden interest in an 1800's school house, Damien?"

Caleb started down the stairs. "Call it an architectural curiosity."

"Right." Dean caught up to him at the bottom, blocking him from crossing the street. They had left their horses at the small livery per Malachi's suggestion. Apparently one did not merely leave their animal tied to a hitching post like in the movies either because horse thieves were rampant. "Because from the looks of the other buildings in this fine town it's going to be something for you to gawk at."

"Why do you care if I want to see the school building, man?"

"Because like you, thanks to Pastor Jim, I've seen my share of Little House on the Prairie reruns. School houses often served as makeshift hospitals and churches." Dean knew it was the latter that had his friend on a quest. He'd had such a hard time wrapping his mind around the idea that they were in the 1800's during the time of Daniel Wilmington's Triad that Dean hadn't taken the time to consider what else that meant. Dean grabbed Caleb's good arm and pulled him into an alleyway beside the jail, away from the bustle of town's people. "From what we've seen of Canaan so far, no one's dished out any money for a tabernacle of holiness hence your eagerness to visit their institution of higher learning."

Caleb folded his arms over his chest. "Hence? Institution of higher learning? Have you been brushing up on that old thesaurus Mac gave you all those Christmases ago to impress your lady doctor, Deuce or just hanging out with Josh too much?"

"Don't try that shit with me, Damien." Dean shook his head at the lame attempt at redirection. "You're thinking about the Reverend Noah Seaver. We don't even know he's here at this time and place."

"He's here." Caleb glanced up the stairs, his face hardening. "The good doctor sang his praises when I asked him about the Yellow Fever epidemic that struck a few months back. Couldn't stop talking about the new pastor and his young wife who'd opened their doors to help care for the afflicted. If only I could tell him how the good pastor will someday murder more citizens of this fair town than he ever helped and how his blushing bride will bear devil's spawn..."

"But you can't tell him that. You get that, right?"

"I get it, man, the fucking time continuum and all."

"And there is the part where the good doctor would think you were insane, or a heretic which might get you tarred and feathered or hung from a tree." Dean reached out and squeezed Caleb's shoulder, hoping to convey that he understood what his friend was going through. They both had reasons to want Seaver dead, real, legitimate reasons. This new facet of their situation gave Dean more cause to curse their luck. Not only were they dealing with helping the wicked witch Malachi Harris, but now the demon from their pasts, both literally and figuratively, had reared its ugly head and was alive and well. "Promise me you'll forget about Noah Seaver. Just focus on the job so we can get out of here and back to our own time."

"You know I can't do that." Caleb held Dean's gaze, some of the anger in his gold eyes giving way to an emotion much more powerful and much harder for Dean to deal with. "We could finish him, Deuce. We could finish him before he ever got a chance to hurt anyone, to hurt our family. We could destroy the sonofabitch before he releases Azazeal."

"And we could destroy everything we've come to count on." Dean would be lying if he said a part of him didn't agree with Caleb, but he'd also glimpsed a future when his mother didn't die thanks to an encounter with a Gen. Parts of it were great, but knowing all the people his family had saved since her death had died was sobering. Caleb was one of those people who had not been spared. Dean shook his head, reigning in his own emotions. "No. Just no, damn it! Sam's right about this."

"What am I right about?" Sam had turned the corner of the alley, his face showing confusion as to why they had disappeared and were now faced off looking ready to spar.

"About needing to keep focused on the mission at hand." Dean stepped away from Caleb, shooting his brother a grin. There was no need to invoke another Scholarly speech on the evils of changing the past. "Damien was trying to convince me to check out the Saloon, maybe grab some of that pie from the restaurant I was telling you about, but I told him we had to keep our priorities straight."

"Really?" Sam looked skeptical, sporting what Dean was sure would one day be the classic face his lawyer brother would don when facing down a lying suspect sweating on the witness stand.

"And by priorities, he means we have to find you a new fucking hat." Caleb saved Dean from further obfuscation by moving around him to cross to Sam. "Big brother's top priority is to spare you from looking like an idiot."

"Dean has much bigger things to worry about than my fashion sense." Sam called after Caleb. The look he gave Dean spoke to the truth he knew he was being left out of something and Sam would expect Dean to remedy that later. Sam touched the black bowler when Dean was shoulder to shoulder with him. "I'm kind of used to this hat now. Besides, we told Josh we'd meet him and Malachi."

"At the store." Dean bumped against his brother. If only Sam understood how much more Dean had to worry about now. "Where it will be no problem to get you some new headwear. That is if you didn't give all of our silver and gold to the good doctor."

It turned out they didn't need the money Sam's ignorant generosity had cost them. Dean and Caleb weren't the only ones who thought Samuel Colt's bowler did not suit Samuel Winchester in the least. Joshua handed The Scholar a black traditional cowboy hat when they met up with him at the entrance to the General Store.

"I thought this might be more comfortable." Joshua offered with uncharacteristic tact as he handed the hat to Sam, who gave an exaggerated eye roll.

Dean breathed a sigh of relief when Caleb gave a sharp laugh and taunted Sam with an 'I told you so, Runt'. He took it as a sign he'd made headway with his stubborn Knight, keeping him from doing anything insane for the time being.

"I trust everything went well?" Joshua asked as Sam switched hats and checked his new reflection in the dusty glass of the shop's front window.

Dean handed Joshua the medicine the doctor had given him. "Make sure you add this to the patient's tea twice a day."

"I can take my own damn medicine, thank you very much." Caleb snatched the tincture away from Joshua, shoving it into one of the deep pockets of his duster. "Unlike the rest of you, I don't need a keeper. I happen to _be_ the keeper."

"Practically the Crypt Keeper in this era, to hear Sammy tell it." Dean threw out the barb about his friend's age, knowing a blow to the ego would be more effective than any argument that technically Dean as The Guardian was responsible for everyone's welfare on a hunt, even if Knights felt the need to wear the burden like so many layers of chain mail.

"I would withhold casting Caleb in the role of an ancient until you've had the pleasure of meeting Malachi's friend, Methuselah."

"The hunter he was telling us about?" Sam asked. "The one who headed up the search for The Triad."

Joshua nodded. "As far as I understand he serves a role very much like Dean has given to Silas."

"Head of security detail." Dean understood each Guardian groomed a group of men to keep close to the inner circle. They often watched over The Guardian's closest friends, family, and when necessary backed up The Triad. Silas Fox, along with Ethan and Eli Matthews made sure only the most dedicated and loyal of hunters were allowed to serve.

"This age's version, I suppose." Joshua glanced towards the General Store. "He's also the entrepreneurial genius of this fair enterprise."

"What did Harris tell him about us?"

"He informed Frederick, aptly nick-named Methuselah by his brother in arms for his survival skills, that Dean and Sam were distant cousins of Daniel Wilmington's. He said he'd had the opportunity to meet the Winchesters and their associates, us," Josh pointed to Caleb and then included himself, "while attending school in New York. Being that Dean and Sam were technically family and also hunters, he informed us of Daniel's disappearance by telegram and we of course came right away to aid in the search."

"This Methuselah guy bought that load of crap?" Dean glanced to The Advisor.

"Obviously the man's business sense is keener than his common sense as we would have not had time to travel here from New York, seeing as how train travel at this time is still greatly lacking and we would have been forced to come by coach through treacherous territory and …"

Dean raised his hand to cut off the Advisor's lengthy explanation. "I get it; Methusulah's not the sharpest tool in the shed. But does he have any information that might be useful in helping us get started?"

"He's holding his report until we're all gathered and he takes his lunch break."

"Lunch?" Dean arched a brow. "Could we maybe move this meeting to the Saloon?"

"What happened to your priorities, big brother?" Sam questioned.

Dean gestured to Sam's head, where the new hat sat much better on his brother's head; shadowing his eyes and making him look more gunslinger than geeky newspaper hawker. He glanced to Caleb. "I'd say the first item on my to do list has been achieved, wouldn't you, Damien?"

"Check." Caleb folded his arms over his chest, nodding to Dean. "Let's eat."

"Of course you'd agree with him," Sam scoffed. "Any chance to go to an actual saloon."

"Look at it as our first official Brotherhood Board Meeting." Dean grinned, tossing an arm over his brother's shoulder. "Complete with fancy pastries."

To be continued…


	5. Chapter 5

Prisoners of the Past

By: Ridley and Tidia

A/N: Thank you so much for all the kind reviews and comments.

_"What you need to know about the past is that no matter what has happened, it has all worked together to bring you to this very moment. And this is the moment you can choose to make everything new. Right now." _

Sam had to admit the eggs and bacon were much better than the food Malachi had served them the night before. He hadn't even braved the mush like substance that morning, sneaking his portion under the table to give to the pups, Huck and Tom. Apparently they weren't the first Triad to be obsessed with a classic book. He'd learned the pig's name was Thatcher, after Tom Sawyer's love interest Becky. It was a little eerie, not the affable sow's name, but the parallels in their lives. Sometimes Sam still felt like he was caught in some odd dream, like Dorothy in Oz. Even old Methuselah was a bit like Bobby Singer, in mannerisms and vernacular, if not in appearance.

Methuselah was a squatty man with a barrel chest and bigger midsection. A neatly trimmed beard and full head of white wiry hair beneath his broad rimmed cowboy hat didn't keep Sam from thinking of Boss Hogg from The Dukes of Hazard television show. Maybe it was the ruddy complexion, the double chin or the fact Methuselah was currently consuming his second serving of raw liver.

"So, you think The Triad was investigating cattle mutilations when they disappeared?" Sam asked once the café owner Dorothy moved away from the table after topping off everyone's coffee.

Methuselah had been telling them about the strange occurrences leading up to the disappearance of Wilmington and the others.

"I know it." The old man nodded, wiping his hands on a napkin. "Damndest thing. Cows, sheep, left in the fields for the buzzards, only their hearts missing. Folks were starting to get spooked, talk of the Crow and their devil ways. Tensions were building. Daniel wanted to end it before trouble got stirred up with the settlers and the tribes."

"Daniel's father and our former Guardian worked hard to forge a friendship with the neighboring Indian tribes, especially the Crow," Harris interjected. He looked to Joshua. It was a habit that made Sam uneasy. The Malachi of this time seemed harmless, but Sam understood the danger he would one day bring to their lives and couldn't help to wonder if they were actually somehow laying the groundwork and foundation for Harris's obsession with their Triad and Joshua as their Advisor. "Daniel took it a step further. Two of the braves even wear bands he gave them, a fact that did not go over well in our ranks, especially when the body was found."

"Body?" Dean put down his fork. Sam was not surprised that it took mention of murder to get his brother to abandon a good piece of steak.

"I was getting to that." Methuselah shot Malachi a reprimanding frown and Sam decided the old man did not care for Harris. Methuselah covered the remainder of his food with his napkin, picking up his coffee. "One of the workers off the Circle K didn't make his check point back a week ago. Scholar got a message from him a few days later, which is never a good sign so Daniel sent me and a few others off to recover the body before anyone stumbled over it and formed a lynch mob."

"Your Scholar is clairvoyant?" Caleb finally joined the conversation. He'd been as unusually quiet as Dean. It wasn't because of food. Sam noted The Knight hadn't more than moved his steak around his plate, picking at the biscuits before passing the meal off to Dean. Murder might not stir The Knight from whatever funk he was in, but talk of psychic abilities was always a sure way to get his attention.

"I don't know what clairvoyant means, but Samuel is able to communicate with those who have crossed over through the veil. It is his gift," Malachi replied in a lowered voice although they were the only customers.

"Some gift." Methuselah snorted. "Ain't much a man can do for a body once they've stopped breathing. Last Scholar could bend the barrel of shotgun with just a thought. Now there's a talent worth having."

"Speaking with the dead is an invaluable skill in our line of work," Harris defended. "Just imagine the secrets one could learn from those who have passed on. We would have not found Nathaniel Jeffers body until the spring, possibly ever if not for Samuel."

"Where did you hide the body?" Dean asked.

"What makes you think we hid it?" Methuselah asked.

"Because that's what I would have done," Dean replied. "That is if I didn't want a widespread epidemic of pandemonium when I carted it into town."

"I see cunning runs in the family." Methuselah picked up his drink, eyeing Dean again. "Funny, I don't remember Charles Wilmington ever mentioning having cousins back East, especially ones that had been granted rings by The Guardian."

"Our father wasn't the most social of people. I doubt he and Charles stayed pen pals through the years," Dean explained. "But he was a damn good hunter, a skill he passed on to us."

"He also taught us that family comes first, above everything else." Sam knew both Dean and Caleb were staring at him, surprised that he would choose to reveal this fact about his dad. It was one Sam often doubted and questioned rather loudly growing up, especially when it came to John Winchester's motives and actions, but it was one that Sam had come to realize as truth in the years since his father's passing, since becoming The Scholar. "The Brotherhood is the only family we have left now. We'll do whatever it takes to protect it."

Methuselah seemed to accept the answer. He looked to Malachi who nodded. When he turned to Dean once more there was a gleam in his dark eyes. "How about a little ride, boys?"

Dean grinned and Sam knew he was thinking about some western scene or another from any number of movies he'd watched as a kid. "Just as soon as I finish my steak."

Methuselah laughed, lifting his coffee cup in a toast to Dean's appetite. "Spoken like a true Wilmington."

_And Winchester._

The words danced across Sam's mind and he turned to Caleb. The Knight was looking out the window, twisting his silver hunter's band around his finger, but Sam knew he'd sent the silent observation. Sam was about to respond in kind, tap into their psychic link to ask if Caleb was alright, but the glimpse of something else in Caleb's thoughts flashed through Sam's mind, stopping all notions of glib inquiries. Sam's mouth went dry, a chill racing up his spine. He turned his gaze back to Dean, willing his brother to finish his damn meal. The sooner they got this hunt underway and recovered the missing Triad so they could get home, the better.

Ti*RcJ*Ti*RcJ


End file.
